Your European hussle comes fresh from the racks
The guilt of being happy breathing down your back
Wrestled your intentions, crossed your eyes for years
Hate to get those nasty feelings
I got the same thing now

Chorus:
Turn to me, say hate me, hate me
There’s got to be another way
Turn to me, say hate me, hate me
There’s got to be another way

So take me to the ocean
We’ll miss The Daily news
My worry beads are broken and I need so bad to be abused
All I said was no way
Now you’re all pissed off
So, okay, what’s the story?
Do you need it now or not?
Your breath is getting rancid and it’s getting late
My senses are reminded of some bad food now